


Poppet

by organicgold



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: And a humble pet snake, Asexual Relationship, Gabriel is a dick, If Crowley can have his plants to project onto why can't Aziraphale have something too, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/organicgold/pseuds/organicgold
Summary: Crowley could faintly hear Aziraphale's voice further inside. "After all I put you through," it was saying. "Put us through. Oh, my dear. What can I do?"Aziraphale becomes the doting new owner of a pet snake. He gets a little carried away. It happens, with love.





	Poppet

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by this tweet: https://twitter.com/InbarFink/status/1152349434447110144?s=09

Aziraphale hadn't expected to enjoy his visit to the pet shop as much as he did. Certainly, as a general sentiment, animals were wonderful in the abstract, being a divine entity. _All creatures great and small, All things wise and wonderful, The Lord God made them all_ and so forth. But it was really the variety. The ingenuity. 

Eyes, all shapes and colors and sizes, seeing totally different things in the same shop, in different wavelengths of light. Little noses with wondrous powers. Perfect paws and claws, made just so, beautiful for the sophisticated utility of their shape and substance. Marvelous. If he hadn't had a certain, barely analyzed purpose whose tension between being in total denial of and in need of he was currently riding the wave of, he could easily have spent the afternoon in fascination of the living creatures of earth. 

Instead, coming to the reptile section of the store, he got on with it. Poor Jackson, innocently logging the tank temperatures, was chosen by fate to assist the eager customer. He stood strong in the onslaught.

 _Oh, excuse me, young man, may I ask you about the reptiles? Yes, very good. What size enclosure would be best? A snake, yes indeed. Yes, my first... er, my first. Oh, not a small one, but above all one of a black variety, I was hoping. Yes, indeed, they strike me as quite 'cool' and er, stylish. Not that I'm after a fad, you understand, I know they live for many years... Oh yes, this would work quite nicely. No problem, this will do well. Now, the er, bedding. Substrate? Ah, you're a knowledgeable young lad here! Well, whichever is the finest, I'll take it. Oh, I am familiar with their habitat, yes. You have your hidey-hole, if that is the technical term! And there's your sunning rock as well, to sprawl upon, a branch or three to wind about, bit of water. Oh, lovely, a wonderful display you have here. I'll take one of each! Yes, they're quite... sensitive creatures, aren't they? Indeed. No, it won't be a problem. I'll set it working right. Is that so? My word. A carnivore must eat as a carnivore. Well, as long as the poor things are already gone, I shall manage. He shall want for nothing in my care! Very good. Yes, tomorrow is fine. Thank you, good day now_! 

The next day, a fine snake habitat was established in a quiet, private room of the bookshop. Aziraphale arranged and rearranged the rocks and branches and dishes and plastic plants to a rich playground of a snake's most verdant dreams. And the day after, Aziraphale again returned to the pet shop, but had no need of assistance this time (in vain did Jackson sweep the floors in the dog and cat kibble section with loving attention for two hours). To choose a snake, the snake, was an act of communion which needed no third party. In the late afternoon, Aziraphale returned to the bookshop, radiant and satisfied, plastic box containing the precious creature of God safely under his coat. 

"Here we are," he said warmly, "Your new home. Our home, I suppose. You and me. I've prepared your habitat just yesterday and I do hope it is to your liking. Erm, so. Would you like to...? Ah, okay." Aziraphale hadn't wished to dump the dear creature in, but the snake precluded any awkward fussing by arrowing adventurously out of the plastic box, alighting on the top of a branch. 

"Oh, well done. Well done, you." Aziraphale watched in fascination as the snake flowed on down, into the cushy substrate with the rest of his body and tail still making its way down the branch. "What do you think? Seems nice, I thought. Aspen shavings, top-notch. Right of the floor is warmer, left is cooler. Though I suppose you've got that figured out by now." 

Watching the snake go along its own agenda, in its own time, it slowly occurred to him that perhaps he should name this fine creature. His gut reaction was a tight-lipped smiling, polite _no thank you_. So that was that. The snake proceeded to an attractive arching rock that was just his size when curled up, and promptly disappeared inside it to do just that. It is essential for every snake to have their hidey-hole, a place to be alone and unseen, to feel safe. 

Aziraphale watched a while, waiting for any sign he might emerge. He wished to tap on the glass, but knew better. 

"Figures," he said, softly and with still softer bitterness enclosed in it. "Rest well-- er. Goodnight." 

* 

After a week's adjustment (for them both, for Aziraphale donning an apron and gloves before facing the small refrigerator designated solely for the snake, and for the snake becoming familiar with the intense, bright electric energy that accompanied the soft, doting vibration he heard so often) came the part Aziraphale had been most looking forward to. Some time together. 

"Now then." He settled back mildly, ancient book drawn into his lap and gently steaming tea beside. "This is quite nice. Us here together." They would spend many evenings like this, in companionable silence as Aziraphale's mind wandered the minds of ancient people long dead through his reading and the snake enjoyed what he rather hoped were contented, snakey thoughts. 

Jackson at the pet store was taken off his guard one morning by the return of Mr Fell and the swarm of questions, this time about handling his pet snake. Mr Fell was terribly anxious to get it right and that the snake would feel safe and cared for and where to hold him and so forth. Kindly, Jackson demonstrated for him and then, after many assurances _yes, he was ready_ and _no, he would not panic_ , gave over the ball python. 

"Ooh!" exclaimed Mr Fell, feeling the warm, smooth scales of the friendly snake. The snake paid him little mind, preoccupied instead with the crackling unearthly energy field of the hands it sleepily unwound in. Aziraphale's worried words dissipated as he became absorbed in supporting the creature nosing around his soft, tender hands. 

"Isn't she...quite something? My goodness." A self-conscious little smile flitted to his face, watching the curious creature. "Fancy that. Hello, little one." 

At home too, it went well. There was only the incident where Mr Fell called, sounding like he might die of fright, when the snake began to shed his skin. As the poor customer asking for him sounded on the edge of tears, the call got handed to Jackson. The patience with which he explained how and why and when snakes shed their skin was saintly, but Aziraphale was too horribly worried to notice. 

Diligently correct and with patient care, Aziraphale spent the time to accustom the snake to being handled. The Mexican black kingsnake is a good beginner's snake, generally calm and mild. Not that Aziraphale was a beginner when it came to snakes. Just where mild and well-tempered ones were involved. 

That snake in question was approaching the bookshop on the street outside. It had been too damn long since he'd been on this street corner, been in this shop, seen Aziraphale. The memory of that beautiful summer evening after the Ritz just wasn't cutting it anymore.

Missing Aziraphale was a familiar ache but certainly, it didn't have to be that way anymore. Didn't it? The fondness in those angel eyes and free giddiness to his gestures that evening had told Crowley otherwise. 

He wanted to see that again. 

Crowley knocked once on the bookshop door, twice. "Aziraphale?" he said, loud as he dared on the public street. There was no answer. With a pointed look at the lock (it knew him, they went way back together), he entered and shut the door quietly. The lock clicked into place behind him, and Crowley could faintly hear Aziraphale's voice further inside. "After all I put you through," it was saying. "Put us through. Oh, my dear. What can I do?" 

* 

Autumn nights were quiet in the bookstore. Aziraphale felt sometimes that he was able to hear the sounds of the day's dust landing in place, in such a silence alone. It was just him, and his tin of biscuits he'd popped down to Milan for, and the quiet evening. And the snake. And the thoughts. 

"It isn't always this quiet, you know," said Aziraphale chattily. "Sometimes I host my good friend and we have a nightcap after dinner. If a nightcap can go on for hours. You haven't met him yet, but he's the kind of person who can do that. It's quite an uproar when he's here. Oh yes." 

Aziraphale opened the top of the terrarium to gently scoop out the snake by his middle. Expeditiously, the snake set to slithering up the angel's arm. This never failed to charm Aziraphale and with a proud smile he crossed over the rug with care to sit in his favored overstuffed chair. 

"There we are. Yes, we had many of those. Day or night. So not strictly a nightcap, I suppose. Talking about anything and everything. The whole world. When you've been there, _really_ been there for all of human history, it's hard to run out of things to talk about. Dear, do come back from there." 

Aziraphale turned slightly to peel the snake from the ornate back of the chair which had tempted him with lots of little carvings and texture. He returned to curling around various parts of Aziraphale's arms. "There you go, darling. That's it." 

He watched the dark scales in the reading light, each shaped just so by Her hand. They glistened like a dark oyster's shell. So beautiful, a precious thing, this creature. 

"I do hope you're happy here in this odd bookshop of mine. It's not quite the same as always. I thought things would be different here after all that. More time together. I thought you'd say something after all our lovely dates, because really, who am I fooling, that's what they were. Maybe spend a night together sleeping instead of drinking. 

"But I... I treated you so horribly, didn't I? And even after all that, I still can't…" Aziraphale's voice faltered, and started again from the low place it had fallen to. "After all I put you through. Put us through. Oh, my dear. What can I do? How can I know still? Please tell me, I'll do anything for you. I hope you know that. Why don't you say anything, my love? I'm s-AAH!" 

"Aziraphale?" From the doorway, despite Aziraphale's shock, Crowley spoke softly, in a voice Aziraphale couldn't recall hearing before. 

Not that he remembered back at the moment, as the snake tightened around his arm in response to the alarm. "Agh--! Crowley. Yes. Hello." 

Crowley stood perfectly still leaning there, eyes obscured, taking in the scene with an opaque calmness that made Aziraphale squirm. "What's that?" 

"This? This is, erm..." Aziraphale trailed off as he concentrated on prying and guiding the snake down off his arm. What on earth was Crowley doing, showing up out of nowhere? "My snake. Pet snake. What on earth are you doing here, showing up out of nowhere?" 

Bristling slightly, Crowley folded his arms. "I was in the area, and you... hadn't called in a while." 

"Oh, dear. Oh dear." Aziraphale placed the snake back in the enclosure, knowing his time facing away from his friend was coming to an end fast and he needed to think of something even faster. Unfortunately he didn't, and rushed in alongside proverbial fools rushing in where angels fear to tread. 

"Crowley! What a surprise. Sorry you had to see that. I was, um, practicing for a... you see, the local... I--" 

Slowly, Crowley unfolded his arms. "Angel? Is everything all right?" 

Aziraphale paused a moment. "I... need to go wash my hands. Essential, for the health and safety of corporation and snake. Lovely snake, he is. _Lampropeltis getula nigrita_ ," he said with flawless Latin pronunciation and a queasy smile. 

"Sorry, what?" 

"I'll be right back." 

Aziraphale dashed to the washroom, determined not to let this second chance to think get away from him. Yet there was a sick twist in his gut, hearing his own attempted lies of a few moments ago echo in his memory. At the sink, he thought long and hard, by way of coming to peace with circumstances inexorable. 

He returned to the sitting room calmer, but with an expression so uncharacteristically grave that Crowley sat on the couch like a normal person. 

The last time Aziraphale had kept secrets from him, it had wound up with Crowley believing he was too late to stop him from burning up in hellfire. That was not going to happen again if he could help it. The urgency of his worry put gravel in his careful voice. "Are you all right, angel? What's going on?" 

Aziraphale folded his hands together. "I'm... afraid I've been rather... harsh on you, Crowley. Rather cruel. To put it poorly. To make a... horrific understatement." 

With eyebrows responsive as those, who needed sunglasses? Crowley slipped the sunglasses into his inner jacket pocket, and the open worry on his face nearly made Aziraphale wish he could lie and make it all go away again. Nearly. 

"Aziraphale. What was that about?" said Crowley, softer this time. He leaned forward, lithe. 

Aziraphale straightened. It had always helped with the archangels. "I... didn't hear a word from you one way or the other after the Ritz about... about me. Of course I knew how you felt before and when we were to meet after in St James's again, I went to get you flowers but once I, I had them in hand I stopped, because, why? What-- what right did I have to ask you to keep loving me? To want you to?" His gentle hands wrung now terrible, frantic, tight. 

"I spent so much time, _so_ much time, ignoring you and your pain and your love that _I_ caused you. Offering the hand of friendship and then yanking it away again on a whim. The way I treated you, Cr... is unforgivable." 

Crowley's name and the strained voice which barely invoked it suffocated under unworthiness. And that word, that last word that Crowley himself tossed around with self-damning humor that had always made Aziraphale wince, landed on the oriental rug between them, where Aziraphale's gaze was fixed. 

There was silence. 

"So... so." Aziraphale took a short breath. "That is what _that_ dreadful... scene was about. I apolo--" 

"But angel, I forgive you." 

Aziraphale froze, and looked up, hardly believing. 

Crowley had stood and, just a few steps away, was watching him with those beautiful eyes Aziraphale loved so. 

"You...?" Aziraphale said slowly, as if his tongue was the first to utter that word. 

Just as slowly, Crowley came closer, and unwound the tender hands to hold in his own long-fingered ones. Gentle as a lamb. 

Inside the terrarium, the snake got busy doing snake activities and entertaining possibilities for dinner that week (mice? perhaps an egg, imagine!). Outside, his counterpart caught the tears of an angel in his own hands and embraced the guilt of millenia until, through kisses which told novels too profound to be set into words, that guilt and grief became light as a heavenly body.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to pomelofangirl for the motivation and the unwavering belief, and to altairattorney, for everything.


End file.
